


Support

by Flenser



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Abuse References, Anal Sex, Armin's a pro, Canon Divergence, M/M, Prostitution, Underage Sex, but the best lil' pro there is, what if
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-01-27
Packaged: 2018-01-10 07:33:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1156849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flenser/pseuds/Flenser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When trainees wash out, they're sometimes offered a choice: return to their families, the landfill, or support the military in another way.</p><p>Rated E for second chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Support

Seven hundred and sixty-five. Eren’s eyes landed flatly on the last stone block in his cell, the one in the lower corner with the strange vein of quartz that bisected it nearly evenly on the diagonal and wondered for the umpteenth time if the long-dead builders had used it specifically to mark out the starting point of construction. Or maybe in an upside down world it was the end, and instead of block number one it was block number seven hundred and sixty-five, and shit, that was just as likely as _anything_ considering how absolutely _nothing_ made sense to him these days.

Seven. It had been seven days since the disaster at Trost and his trial was finally over, his life and freedom forfeit to the _wings of freedom_ , and oh, wasn’t that the worst sort of irony, to be caged though freed, and by the very group of people he’d decided to pledge his life and freedom to as a child (though willingly, freely, and not because he had no choice).

If he’d had the choice he would have chosen the same.

“I can hear you breathing in there, you piece of shit,” spat one of the ever-present Military Police lackeys guarding his cell.

Anger flashed anew in Eren’s veins, making him hot and tense but he didn’t reply. He’d tried that a few times, shot back some particularly creative insults about the guards’ mothers or sisters and earned a few cracked ribs and missing teeth for his effort. He’d avoided it ever since, but not because of the pain; swallowing his own blood over and over until the ruined gums re-knit made him nauseous. Instead, he stared at number one or seven hundred and sixty-five and began to count the stone blocks of his cell again, this time backwards.

Counting kept the worst of his rage at bay, the certainty and repetition soothing enough to allow him to think.

Footsteps suddenly sounded in the distance, down the hall, getting closer. Two sets, one of which he could easily identify as belonging to Corporal Levi (seven days, he reminded himself grimly) and the second, lighter, softer, almost barefoot. He’d never heard those before, accustomed as he was to the sharp sound of military boots clacking on the flagstones of the dungeon and wondered.

“Get lost,” the Corporal growled.

Eren smirked when he heard the obviously outranked guard snap a salute and stalk off back the way the other footsteps had come. He listened as the noise faded, then turned his attention back to the Corporal and the newcomer outside his door.

“Moron,” the Corporal muttered.

“Levi,” a soft voice suddenly prodded. It was high for a man, but a little low for a woman and Eren wondered at the familiarity with which it said the Corporal’s name. They must have been someone of much higher rank in order to address him as such. Eren tensed as the idea that he’d be dealing with someone possibly more formidable than Corporal Levi struck him.

“Thank you for coming,” the Corporal replied just as softly, almost gently. “I wouldn’t normally ask this of you, but -”

“No, it’s quite all right,” the voice interjected so quietly that Eren had to strain to hear it. It was smooth like silk and held a strange note of refinement, something he’d rarely encountered since the loss of Maria. It made him ache unexpectedly for a time long gone. “You know I’ll do anything to help, especially if it's you asking.”

“You’re too generous,” the Corporal replied with what sounded like genuine affection, then sighed. “I could have sworn the brat’s predilections ran more mainstream, but after what happened with the other three…”

Eren released his tension with a huff and rolled his eyes. So not an officer after all, but another whore summoned to try to fuck him into submission. They had been attempting to subdue his rage for days, sending one pretty girl after another into his cell to help him “relax” ever since, out of ideas, someone had ridiculously posited that he ran hot because he was a typical hormonal teenager chained up to a stone wall with no outlet. If he had been a typical hormonal teenager he might have understood, and though it seemed like he understood less and less these days, the one thing he thought was glaringly obvious was he was far from typical. When would they learn that he couldn’t be controlled by such things? His anger was born from the all-encompassing need for vengeance, not sexual frustration and it would only be satisfied when the broken streets of the abandoned world ran thick with titan blood.

“Are you sure he wants it?” the whore asked, and Eren could have kissed her if it wasn’t exactly what the Corporal was trying to accomplish.

“Show me a fifteen year old boy who doesn’t want it and I’ll fucking throw myself naked over Maria.” There was a moment of silence, and then, “I’m sorry.”

Eren frowned in concern. He hadn’t known the Corporal long, but one thing he had learned was that the man was stridently unapologetic about anything, let alone language. How was it possible that this _whore_ held so much power over him? Was he sweet on her? Eren had never once spared a single thought to his superior officer’s personal life and while the idea of the Corporal indulging in matters of the flesh with a paid professional was a bit off-putting, the idea that the stony man might have romantic feelings for someone - _anyone_ \- damn near knocked him for a loop. 

The jangling of keys suddenly yanked Eren out of his thoughts and his eyes darted to the cell door, barely visible in the low light of the lamp at his bedside. The lock clicked and the door swung open to admit the Corporal and a slight woman about the same height, maybe a little taller. As she silently approached him Eren could make out the shape of her traditional _oiran_ robes - so they had sprung for a _high-class_ whore this time - and he shrank back into his bed despite himself: though he knew love could cause people to behave strangely, a small civilian woman who could command humanity’s strongest soldier was likely someone to be feared in her own right.

“Oi,” the Corporal barked loudly from the doorway. “Don’t be rude. Sit up.”

Eren flushed and straightened, heart hammering as the woman stopped in front of the lamp and reached out to turn up the flame, holding her long sleeve back with her other hand and revealing a pale, delicate wrist. The cell brightened instantly and Eren squeezed his eyes shut against the light, unaccustomed and sensitive after sitting in the dim for so long.

“Eren?” the woman gasped and his eyes flew open to lock suspiciously with her wide, blue-eyed gaze. “Eren Jaeger?”

Eren jerked back as she suddenly leaned in, face level with his and so close he could smell her light floral perfume. The end of her fair, loosely-braided hair hung low enough to graze and tickle his arm while her face filled his vision. She was youthful, softly beautiful, and there was something familiar about her, something about the turn of her cheek, the shape of her nose but it was all wrong somehow, like the memory of her had become distorted with time and he couldn’t place her though she apparently knew him, and he felt like he should know her.

“Maria’s ashes, it _is_ you!” she gasped, impossibly large blue eyes somehow even larger and she launched herself at him, arms thrown around his shoulders and small hands clutching vice-like at the back of his shirt as she sobbed and trembled and dribbled hot, messy tears into his shoulder.

Before Eren could even react Corporal Levi was there with a gentle hand on the woman’s quaking back as she gulped loudly for air, concern plastered on his usually dispassionate face. “Armin?” he murmured questioningly.

Eren’s heart stopped. No. What did he say? No, it was impossible. He had to have heard wrong or this was a different Armin, because the boy he knew was at the landfill, rejected and kicked out of training years ago for failing to progress, not the keening wreck of a young woman in whores’ robes currently clinging to him for dear life and hiccuping his name.

But, he hedgingly allowed himself to admit - and this was dangerous, this new idea taking form - there were similarities enough between them and years and experiences changed people, didn’t they? Shaped them into something different? It was possible that Armin, _his_ Armin, had met a different fate from the landfill and had somehow returned to him - different - wasn’t it?

“Armin,” the Corporal repeated a little louder and there, Eren had heard right. A tiny spark of hope jolted his heart into beating again as he allowed himself to believe.

“Armin?” Eren breathed tentatively and Armin barked a blubbering laugh.

“I knew I’d find you again one day,” Armin sobbed and pulled away, gasping for breath as Eren stared openly at splotched cheeks and familiar red-rimmed eyes that sparkled with wisdom and adoration and oh god, it was him, it was him, it was him, it was _him_.

Eren’s chains clanked loudly as he brought his shackled arms up to embrace his long-lost friend and dragged him down to his lap to bury his face into the crook of his sweet-smelling neck. He took a shuddering breath, trying to hold back the tears he’d stopped crying years ago when it became too unbearable to recall this boy, his dearest friend. A small whine escaped his throat and he realized it was useless, so he gave over to his grief, shock, relief and every other emotion swirling tumultuously in his heart.

“How?” he gasped wetly against Armin’s soft skin. “Why?”

Armin laughed, lighter and freer than Eren could ever remember him laughing before and it warmed him to his core. “Levi,” he addressed the Corporal and Eren could feel Armin turn his head to look at the man as gentle fingers carded through his unkempt hair. “Could you give us some privacy?” There was a long, uncomfortable moment of silence and Eren swore he could feel the Corporal’s flinty gaze boring a hole into his head. “I promise I’ll explain later.”

A heartbeat passed, then two, then ten and stiff footfalls sounded as the Corporal wordlessly left the cell, closing the heavy door behind him.

Eren felt Armin turn toward him again - was he watching the Corporal go? - and attempt to extricate himself from Eren’s arms. “No,” Eren whined and Armin laughed again.

“I want to see you,” his friend explained gently, giving him another prod.

Reluctantly, Eren let go.

“You haven’t changed a bit,” Armin said wonderingly when he leaned back and their sore eyes met. He traced cool fingertips down Eren’s cheek and fingered off against his jaw. “You look exactly the same as I remember you.”

“You don’t,” Eren replied glumly, voice thick and raw. It didn’t occur to him how rude it might have sounded until the words left his lips, but Armin appeared unaffected, smiling at him warmly. “What happened?”

Armin’s smile dropped a little, almost imperceptively so and he moved out of Eren’s lap to sit beside him on the bed, still close, still touching, warm and reassuring. He reached out to take one of Eren’s rough hands in both his soft own and brought it to rest in his silk-covered lap where he gripped it tightly. He noticed with a small rush of pleasure that the first two fingers of his right hand were stained black with faded spots of ink, a reminder of when they were children and Eren would capture bugs for Armin to sketch and record in one of his many journals.

“When I washed out, I was offered a choice,” he began, low but sure, smooth thumbs rubbing comfortingly into the back of Eren’s hand. “I could either go back to the landfill or support the military in another capacity. Staying in the military meant a chance to see you and Mikasa again, so it was an easy choice to make.” His smile finally fell completely while his beautiful eyes gazed at him imploringly.

“She’s fine,” Eren assured him quickly and Armin heaved a sigh of relief. “The top of our class.”

Armin flashed him a pleased grin. “I knew she could do it.” The affection and pride were evident in his voice. “What about you?”

Eren shook his head in impatience. He didn’t think his friend was deliberately changing the subject but he found himself a little dismayed at the new direction of their conversation. "Fifth or sixth or something, I don’t know. So you're a whore now?"

Armin's fingers stilled and he gave Eren a long, unreadable look. Eren felt panic begin to grip his heart. He'd said the wrong thing like he always did, let his mouth run before his brain had a chance to catch up, ruined everything already and they had hardly even begun.

"I see that hasn't changed, either," Armin said after a moment and laughed fondly, squeezing his hand as a tense breath nearly exploded from Eren's lungs. "To put it simply, yes," he told him matter-of-factly and without shame, like someone accustomed to such talk and reality, which Eren supposed with a pang of revulsion that he must have been. "My position’s a little more nuanced than that: I'm oiran, so even though I'm enlisted just like they are I’m kept separate from the others."

The others. Eren blinked; he had seen a few workers around the edges of the camp, mostly thin, tired looking women in the usual fashions of the day, nothing like Armin with his healthy glow and expensive silks, but he hadn't paid them much mind, assuming they had come in from Trost or one of the smaller villages nearby to take advantage of bored and stressed soldiers. The idea that they were full members of the military and that Armin was one of them was completely alien to him. He could scarce believe it: innocent little Armin Arlert, who’d endured three months of group showers averting his eyes and hiding himself with a bashful blush on his face was being paid by the military to...to...no. Impossible. What?

Armin - perceptive, pragmatic, thoughtful Armin - must have sensed Eren’s confusion for he gave his hand another squeeze. “It keeps morale up and disease down," he explained with a small smile. “Well cared for soldiers are less likely to cause problems or bring disease among the ranks from outside sources.”

Eren nodded dumbly at that. It made sense, in a utilitarian yet oddly indulgent way. It explained the women’s presence in the camp and he wondered how it had never occurred to him before. Armin being oiran, though - that meant he was on a different level than they were, of higher rank and it might have explained the uncharacteristic respect in Corporal Levi’s words just moments ago. Eren didn’t know much about oiran, only what he’d been told the one time he saw one, young and dazzling, as she passed through Shiganshina’s market square during the King’s Day festival dressed in full regalia. Eren’s mother had scolded him for staring and when he’d asked her who the beautiful lady was, Carla, never one to withhold information from him, though often glossing over details for ease of understanding, asked him if he remembered the woman at the end of their lane, _the one with many male friends. She’s like that, but special_. To Eren’s childish mind being special didn’t forgive the great sin of having many male friends (which was why he only had one) and it wasn’t until he was old enough to fully grasp the concept of prostitution that he’d learned a few more details regarding the differences between oiran and common whores. Even then he didn’t think there were quite enough.

“Where have you been?” he demanded, distress beginning to replace confusion. The only thing more upsetting about his childhood friend being manhandled for pay was the possibility that he had always been within reach these past years and never made himself known. 

“Here, in Sina.”

“But no letters? No messages?”

“I’m sorry,” Armin breathed, pain dulling his bright eyes. “I’m watched pretty heavily. Outgoing communication for anything other than the acceptance of appointments is forbidden, since officers’ lips tend to loosen when happy. I tried once, back at the beginning, but was caught and almost sent back to the landfill. I couldn’t risk it again. Please believe that.”

Eren swallowed hard against the lump that had risen in his throat and nodded tightly. He believed him, he really did but knowing that men like the Corporal had availed themselves of his best friend's company while Eren wondered daily if he was even still alive rankled more than he thought he could bear. He wanted to blame the Corporal for keeping Armin from him, locked away at the pleasure of fat, stupid assholes who couldn’t possibly appreciate the boy for who he truly was but there was no way for the Corporal to have known anything, with Eren just having graduated and joined the Survey Corps and Armin’s name all but a vague whisper between he and Mikasa. Rather than voice his pointless jealousies he decided to wrap his arm around the beautiful boy next to him and pull him close. He was alive and finally with him again and that had to be good enough.

Armin sighed and rested his head on Eren's shoulder, a warm, familiar weight. How often had they done exactly this as children? Near daily, as far as Eren could recall, but not nearly often enough. They sat like that in comfortable silence for a few moments, the only sounds their soft, easy breathing and the occasional swish of silk on silk when Armin adjusted his position and pressed against him further. After a while he tilted his head back and trained his worried eyes on Eren's face.

"I need you to understand that I'm fine with this," Armin said with a confidence Eren had never heard before. It surprised him, but a lot of things had surprised him within the last week, and not all of them unpleasantly so. Like this. Like now. "Really. I was never going to be a strong enough soldier like you or Mikasa, and with this I'm still helping in the small way that I can. I'm fairly independent, protected and choose who I associate with while having a little fun. None of those things would have been possible if I'd gone back to the landfill. I'd probably be dead by now if I had."

Eren recalled with a shudder the horrible conditions of the disease-riddled refugee camps and backbreaking work they'd all endured for three years before being old enough to enlist. It was because of their ability to stick together that they'd even managed to survive to that point at all. His heart broke to imagine Armin starving and friendless, sick or possibly targeted by men with less than honorable intentions, perhaps even doing what he was doing now but constantly in danger, his life beyond any semblance of safety or control. Eren’s mood was deteriorating the more he thought about it and he could sense that Armin was expecting an answer, deserved an answer that was nothing less than supportive, even if what he felt about it was anything but. Per usual, however, his mouth got the better of him.

"You have...fun?"

"Why do you think people even have sex, Eren?" Armin laughed and nudged his shoulder. "It can be very enjoyable with the right person."

"Like the Corporal?" It was out before he could stop himself and he regretted it the instant he felt Armin stiffen against him.

Instead of getting angry, like the blond boy had every right to be, he just hummed and shook his head. "We're not going to talk about who comes to see me. It might be obvious to anyone who claps eyes on me what I am, but I and the men I see still deserve some measure of privacy." His words were even but there was a warning tone in his voice that made it apparent that he would brook no further argument.

"You're right," Eren agreed quickly, grateful that his friend was just as generous with his thoughtlessness as he’d ever been. "I'm sorry. I won't ask again."

"Thank you," Armin said simply and just like that the tense moment was over.

Eren heaved a relieved sigh. His relationship with Armin had always been easier than this, no ups and downs, no topic taboo (especially not the taboo ones), no secrets, but the last three years had apparently placed a few barriers between them. He was beginning to realize that if he ever wanted to return to that easygoing relationship of childhood he'd have to let certain things remain a mystery, and that included the finer aspects of Armin’s work. And it _was work_ , he knew, just not any kind of work he’d ever thought about in an honorable light. Eren wasn’t a prude by any means - he was a doctor's son, after all, so bodies and what they did together were part of his everyday existence - but prostitution, while legal, was typically frowned upon by most of polite society. It was taught that the baser human instincts should be repressed until marriage, and while Eren’s family had been a bit more pragmatic than most in that regard, Armin’s grandfather had been on the preachy side. To say that Eren was surprised to learn that Armin had so readily thrown everything he was taught out the window would have been an understatement. He wanted to ask about it, had so many questions but he wasn’t quite yet sure how to navigate this new ground, so instead in an effort to lighten the mood he reached out and gave the end of Armin’s long braid a teasing flip.

"This is new."

"Do you like it?" Armin asked, soft blue eyes peeping at him coyly through long eyelashes.

A strange swooping sensation passed through Eren’s gut and he blushed, suddenly shy. He had the distinct feeling he was being toyed with and wondered if this new side to Armin, this _manipulation_ was part of his job or something he would have come by naturally as he aged and eventually came into his own. As a child he’d been incredibly persuasive, always talking them out of trouble whenever Eren’s temper got the best of him. He always knew that one day it would be a finely honed skill, sharper than any blade, but now it had an unexpected sexual edge to it and it both impressed and terrified him. If he could make Eren blush with just a look, despite firmly believing he wasn’t _that way_ , he didn’t even want to know what Armin was capable of when in full form. He suspected that not many could withstand him, the stony Corporal included.

"It's a good look for you,” Eren told him truthfully after he took a moment to let the heat in his cheeks lessen. “You were always pretty, but damn, Armin - you're a fucking knockout now."

"Eren!" Armin laughed and gave him a playful shove, a pink flush spreading attractively across his nose. “Flattery will get you _everywhere_.”

“Everywhere, huh?” Eren grinned with a waggle of his eyebrows, then yelped when Armin pinched his thigh.

“Not _there_ , you rude boy,” he admonished with a giggle.

Eren snorted a laugh, encouraged by their ability to make light of such a heavy subject and squeezed Armin against him a little tighter. It had been years since he’d heard his friend laugh and joke, always so serious once his parents had disappeared and Eren gazed down at him in wonderment as he realized something. "You're really okay, aren’t you?" It was more of a statement than a question.

“I really am,” Armin confirmed. “Don’t get me wrong...I had to do a lot of soul searching at first. It’s not exactly the adventure we’d planned for as children, but I’m still part of it, just in a different role. I’m not ashamed."

"Then neither am I," Eren told him, and decided he meant it, heart swelling when his answer was rewarded with a beatific smile.

There came a knock at the door and Eren gave a start. In the week that he had been cooped up in the dungeon he couldn't recall a single person knocking, no one giving any thought to his personal privacy. He flushed when he realized it was probably because the Corporal thought he and Armin were...well, he didn’t want to think about what the Corporal might have thought they were doing.

"Come...in?" he squawked.

The door creaked open to reveal the Corporal, face unreadable with his usual neutral expression as he paused a moment to take in the sight of the two boys seated pressed against one another on the bed.

"Armin, the sun's setting. We should leave."

Armin nodded and made to stand, but Eren stopped him with a vice-like grip on his waist, suddenly alarmed and unable to let him go. Not now, not when he finally had him back.

“Please stay,” he urged, then looked to the Corporal. “A little longer?”

“Absolutely not.”

“But we leave tomorrow, and we’ve only just -”

“Shut it, Jaeger,” the Corporal commanded, tone brisk.

Eren grit his teeth against the flash of anger that surged through him and with great effort released his hold on Armin, who was watching the whole exchange with anguish etched across his face.

Armin slowly stood, and with a shaky breath leaned down and placed a kiss on Eren’s cheek. “I’ll figure it out,” he whispered loud enough for only Eren to hear and swished away, pausing briefly to squeeze the Corporal’s arm before exiting the cell.

“Be ready at first light, brat,” the Corporal instructed and followed after Armin, closing the cell door behind him with a thud.

Eren glared after him, anger persisting even as he recalled Armin’s parting words: he would figure it out. He would find a way for them all to be together again. Eren didn’t understand how it would happen, just that it would because Armin had made him a promise and, armed with his newfound confidence and skills, Eren trusted him wholeheartedly. He even felt a little badly for whomever ended up the target of his friend’s machinations. He grinned in satisfaction as he imagined it to be the Corporal, writhing in agony on a hook he could never hope to escape.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahahaha, the hooker!Armin trope is gangbusters these days.


End file.
